Thanks for the Memories
by jambajulz
Summary: Just because you know the truth doesn't mean you know what happened. Rachel shows up at her house with no recollection of the last 5 years or how she got home again. It wasn't an accident, and someone very close to her knows exactly what happened, and how to do it again.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I'm still not exactly sure what this is… but whatever it is, it took up my entire Saturday afternoon. I don't own any of the characters or Glee, don't worry. Um, yeah, read on! **

* * *

Rachel walked down the street, eyes perusing the strange houses. When did the Wilson's have time to repaint their house, or mow their lawn? They had always insisted on having their porch painted green, no matter how much the homeowner's association had protested the attention-drawing color. The Jerome's dog wasn't out on their lawn, digging up the petunias either. "Confucius!" Rachel called out. "Hey buddy!" To her surprise, the Chihuahua waddled out from behind the fence, making his way over to the brunette. "What happened to you?" she asked. The usually sprite little dog was now dragging his back right leg as he walked, and was quite a bit grayer than usual. "Did Ryan try to set you on fire again?" Rachel asked, shaking her head at the thought of the Jerome's son trying yet another experiment on the family's beloved dog. She picked up Confucius, and continued walking to down the street.

When she reached the end of Moonmist Drive, she stopped at the brick house right by the mailboxes. The flowerbeds were still as impeccable as she remembered, and Rachel let out a breath she didn't know she was holding; at least her house was normal. She strode up to the front porch, deftly sliding away the pot of marigolds with her foot to reveal a scratched up silver key. Rachel bent down carefully, making sure she still had a firm hold on Confucius as she picked up the key. Straightening up, she inserted the key into the lock, and entered her house. "Dad, Daddy?" she called out. "I'm home!"

Rachel carefully set the small Chihuahua down and walked into the kitchen. She heard voices and stopped in her tracks. She knew these people.

* * *

Quinn dabbed at her eyes, trying not to smear her mascara even more. "I honestly didn't hate her. I wanted to, though. She never made any of the mistakes I did. She had so much heart, soul; she knew what she wanted with her life. She had a goal. Rachel had everything I wish I had, and now it's all gone."

Santana awkwardly rubbed Quinn's back, trying to soothe the emotional former cheerleader. "When I think back to how I treated Berry, I mean Rachel, I'm disgusted with myself. I was so immature. I was a coward- hiding who I was. She was always so open with everything in her life- she wasn't afraid to talk about her dads, and I used that against her. Rachel, if there is any way you can hear me, wherever you are, please know that I didn't mean what I said, I just…" The Latina broke off, unable to continue.

Rachel stood in her kitchen, shocked. Quinn didn't hate her? Ever since she had been in the 5th grade, Quinn had bullied and teased her, and now she was crying in her living room. Rachel tiptoed carefully, trying to hear more. A voice floated through the air, and Rachel strained to listen. "…Rachel, if there is any way you can hear me, wherever you are, please know that I didn't mean what I said, I just…" At the sound of Santana's voice, Rachel straightened and walked purposefully into the living room.

* * *

"Santana? Quinn?" A familiar voice rang out. Both girls sat up, unable to believe their ears.

"Rachel?" the girls asked simultaneously.

"What are you guys doing here?" the petite girl asked, confused.

"What do you mean what are we doing here?" Santana demanded. "What are you doing here?"

"I…I live here," Rachel responded. "I've lived here for the past 17 years. You know that. Remember the 7th grade, when you egged my house? And sophomore year, when you super-glued my front porch?"

Santana and Quinn exchanged a worried glance. "Rachel," Quinn asked softly, "what year is it?"

"2012," Rachel answered. "Are you all okay?"

"Who's the president?" Santana questioned.

Rachel thought for a moment. "President Barack Obama, the 44th president of the United States, and the first African-American. Why are you asking me these questions?"

Santana and Quinn met eyes for a second time, and Quinn nodded. "Rachel," she said gently, "you may want to sit down for this."

Santana stood and motioned to the couch. "Come on, Berry, we won't bite."

The brunette allowed herself to be led over to the sunflower checkered couch. "I don't understand. What is going on?"

Quinn and Santana sat on either side of her. "Rachel, you've been missing for 5 years. Nobody has seen you since you left glee one afternoon in 2012," Quinn started.

Santana took over. "Rachel, your dads were worried sick. No one knew what had happened. After a long and drawn-out search for almost five years, they finally had to stop. We actually just had your memorial service today."

Rachel's eyes widened as she tried to take in the new information. "I'm afraid I just…don't understand any of this. There's no way I can be 23. I just left glee to come back home. If this is some kind of joke, it's no longer funny."

"It's not a joke, Rachel. Where have you been?" Santana inquired.

"I told you, glee. I just got home," Rachel answered impatiently.

"Well, did you drive here?" Quinn wondered.

At this, Rachel hesitated. "No… I think I walked."

Santana jumped on this new piece of information. "But Rachel, that's impossible. McKinley is at least seven miles from your house, and you aren't even out of breath. There's no way you walked home."

The brunette seemed lost in thought. "I can't remember. I can't remember anything anymore." She broke down, sobbing. "I can't remember anything for the last five years. I don't even know how l got here again!"

Quinn moved closer to the distraught girl. "Rachel," she said carefully, "are you sure you don't remember anything?"

Rachel screwed up her face in concentration. "I'm trying… I'm trying so hard!"

"Calm down, Rachel," Santana soothed, "it's going to be alright. You stay here, and Quinn and I will get you some water."

The girls quietly left the room, and entered the kitchen. "Santana, she doesn't remember anything," Quinn whispered.

"I am more surprised than you are, Quinn," the Latina replied. "It seems like he kept his end of the bargain."

"So what do we do then?" Quinn asked. "We haven't planned pass this point. No one thought it could actually be done."

"Your guess is as good as mine, Quinnie," Santana responded. "As for now, she is not to be left out of our sight, until we can notify the others."

Quinn reached into the cupboard to get out the starred glass and filled it with water. "I understand. You go out there, and I'll cut up an apple for her. She must be in shock."

* * *

**A/N: and thus ends the first installment of whatever this is supposed to be **

**So if you have any comments or whatever, feel free to leave a review, but I promise I won't be one of those authors that waits until they have however many reviews to continue. Well then, until next time! -Julz**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, has it really already been almost a month? That makes me feel incredibly unproductive. So, same old, same old: I don't own Glee. If I did, I wouldn't waste my free time writing fanfiction about it, since I could just make it happen. But I digress. Chapter 2, everyone!**

* * *

(Approximately 5 years earlier)

Rachel straightened her red and green plaid skirt, and gave her hair one last swipe with the straightening iron. She smiled at herself in the mirror, and repeated the mantra she had been saying ever since she knew what a mantra was: "Rachel, you are a star. You will succeed. You are worth it." Satisfied with her appearance, the petite girl skipped downstairs and grabbed a blueberry bagel.

"Good morning, Dad, Daddy," she chirped. "I'm on my way to school now. I have Glee after school, so don't expect me home until at least 4:45. Will you need me to pick anything up at the store on my way home?"

"No, dear, I think we've got it covered," Leroy replied, sharing an affectionate look with his husband.

"Well, if you're sure. I'll see you later, then. Love you!" Rachel responded as she grabbed her backpack and made her way toward the door.

"Love you too!" Two voices chorused behind her.

* * *

Rachel walked into school 10 minutes early, as usual. She liked to allot at least that much time to properly prepare for her day at school. She opened her locker, straightened the picture of Glee Club, grabbed her Physics notebook, and made her way over to homeroom.

"Hey, Berry." A smooth voice floated over to her ears.

"Yes, Noah?" Rachel answered without turning around.

"That skirt's gotten quite a bit smaller since freshman year, no?" he asked slyly.

"I don't know what you are insinuating, Noah," Rachel snapped, self-consciously pulling down her skirt, and walking faster, away from the other Jew.

Noah Puckerman sighed, giving up flirting for the time being. "But seriously, Rach, what's going on?"

"Nothing, Noah, really," Rachel answered, "but why are you here so early? I thought you didn't even show up until halfway into second period."

"Oh Berry, your lack of faith in me hurts! Sometimes the Puckster likes to shake things up, keep his teachers on their toes." The troublemaker smirked.

"Whatever you say, Noah," Rachel shook her head.

* * *

"All right, guys! Keep in mind that your assignment for topic: NO is due next week." Mr. Shue waved at the exiting teens, happy to leave on a Friday afternoon. "Remember to use your voice and say NO!"

"Bye, Mr. Shue!" Rachel called out as she left. "See you Monday!"

The petite girl made her way out of the building and to her car. Fumbling in her purse, she searched for her keys. "Darn!" she muttered. "Where did they go?" Finally, her hands closed around the cold metal objects. "Found you!"

As she pressed the unlock button on her keys, a hand reached around to cover her eyes. "Noah, is this you?" Rachel asked, pleased but exasperated. Instead of receiving an answer, Rachel got a mouthful of chloroform, and then darkness.

* * *

"You just want me to kidnap her, get the information, and erase her memory?"

"That's what we said. Whatever it takes, just not physical. She needs to be in the same condition externally. Do all the mental damage you need, but the more things that look suspicious when she returns, the more investigation. We need the names, but we can't have people looking into this."

"What's my deadline? What if she doesn't talk? She's stubborn, you know."

"You have up to 5 years. The catch- she can't go back until 5 years from the date. We need adequate time to erase the trails and set up for part 2."

"How am I supposed to keep her hidden for 5 years?"

"Your area of expertise, not ours."

"Fine, I'll figure it out."

"Do your job well, and we won't have any problems."

"Noted."

* * *

"Red or blue?" Quinn asked Santana.

"Um, red. Do you even have to ask? It's not like Coach would let us paint our nails any other color." Santana responded with a grin.

"So, in other news, I found out who knows," Quinn said hesitantly.

Santana's pulse quickened, but she kept her face uninterested. "Really?" She murmured. "Now who would that be?"

"Berry."

* * *

Rachel awoke with a pounding headache and darkness cuddling around her. After blinking a few times and focusing her eyes, she could make out a few dark shapes near her, wherever that was. "Hello?" she called out, her voice showing more panic than she would have liked.

"Ah, and the diva awakens," a smooth voice floated to her ears.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Rachel asked, not even caring that her fright was clear.

"I am your caretaker for the next 5 years; nice to meet you. In a very cliché statement, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I would suggest that we become friends. Five years is a long time, and it can be full of pain very easily. As for where you are, that knowledge remains for me to know, and you to wonder about."

"Why am I here? What do you want from me? My dads aren't that rich, but if its money you want, they will pay a ransom." Rachel pleaded.

"Oh no, dear, I need you. You see, you play a very important part in a very large sum I am about to come across. All I need from you are the names."

"I'm sorry, you do know I am Rachel Berry? You might have me confused with Rachelle Berrie. Sometimes I get her mail, and I always thought she was a suspicious character. I am sure I can clear all this up if I call her."

"No, I am sure it is you I need. I am talking about January 29."

At the sound of the date, Rachel fell into a shocked silence.

"Nothing to say now? Cat got your tongue? That's alright. I'm sure it will loosen up in the next 5 years. You wouldn't want to endanger your voice, now would you?" The voice took on a threatening tone as Rachel shrunk back into her corner, tears slowly pooling in her eyes.

* * *

**A/N: So, this took me quite a while, and honestly, you know about as much as I do, in terms of plot. Well, maybe my fingers know more, since they typed this all up, but if they do, they haven't told the rest of me, so we will all be surprised next time you hear from me. And remember, if you have a comment, criticism, ideas, or anything, feel free to review or PM me!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So, I realized that a month between updates isn't that bad, and I'll probably generally stick with that, but the holiday season is kinda here, and that means one of 2 things (wow, that was a really long sentence). 1. Updates will be quicker because I have more time or 2. Updates will be slower because I will be a procrastinator. Anyway, on a completely unrelated note, I don't own Glee, and here's the third chapter.**

* * *

"I-I don't understand," Rachel stammered. "Why am I here? That happened at least two years ago; why now?"

"Well, why not?" the mysterious voice responded. "Time means nothing to someone like me; you'll see, we'll be spending quite a bit of time here together. Does five years qualify as a bit of time? Oh, now you've got me on a tangent."

"Please," Rachel begged, "My dads don't know where I am. They don't know if I'm alive or not! Can I tell them something?"

"No, that wouldn't do at all," said the voice, "Then where would all the fun be? Here's how this is going to work, Rachel. I am going to ask you questions, and you're going to answer them. If you don't, I will make you. If all goes well, you stay alive and more or less not hurt. You get three meals a day, because if anything happens to you physically, then we are both doomed. Any questions?"

"No," Rachel whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Great!" the voice chirped, uncharacteristically happy. "Call me Stan."

* * *

Headline of the Lima Courier: "Breaking News! 5 of McKinley Glee Club Members… Kidnapped?"

* * *

"Remind me again why we are doing this?"

"Because if they are the only ones missing, then when Rachel shows up after 5 years, everyone will know who was with her, and she will too. We all have to disappear too, so no one knows what is happening."

"Are we really disappearing?"

"No, not really. We get fake identities, and move somewhere out of the country. I have connections who can get us enrolled in a high school in England. Is everyone okay with repeating junior and senior year?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Sure, whatever."

"Fine."

* * *

"Santana, I don't like this. What if something goes wrong? I mean, I totally get your logic. It would be really suspicious if only two of them went missing. Obviously when Rachel reappeared they would assume who else was with her, but 4 other people too? I thought the whole point was to draw _less_ attention, not more."

"Q, calm down. I know what I'm doing. You've just got to trust me. When Brittany, Artie, Tina, Mike, and Matt disappear, we will be at your house, getting mani-pedis and watching Paranormal Activity 3. Make sure your mom is there so we have an alibi."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Positive."

* * *

"Rise and shine, Rachel," Stan crooned. "Time for breakfast and your first set of questions."

After she had eaten toast with vegan butter and jelly, Rachel followed Stan's voice to a closet next to her room, full of clothes her size. She changed, and slowly made her way into the kitchen, where Stan said the questions would take place. While putting on her shirt, she wondered where this place was. While putting on her skirt, she wondered why Stan didn't just show himself, instead of having speakers and intercoms in every room. And while walking down the stairs, she wondered how she had been found out.

Rachel sat at the table, which now had one chair instead of the two it had when she had eaten. Someone was definitely here with her. Was it Stan?

"Alright, here we go. Answer the question and only the question. I don't care how long winded or complete. If I need more information, I'll tell you. Ready?" Stan boomed through what Rachel thought must have been surround sound.

"I said, _ready_?" Stan asked, his voice taking on a slightly harder edge.

Shaken out of her thoughts, Rachel nodded. Then, not knowing whether Stan could see her or just hear her, she voiced a yes.

"Full name?"

"Rachel Barbra Berry."

"Age?"

"17"

"Date of Birth?"

"February 5, 1995"

"Parents' names and occupations?"

"LeRoy Berry, lawyer, and Hiram Berry, consultant."

The questions continued, full of mundane facts about her life until Rachel felt like robot Rachel instead of human Rachel.

"That's enough, then, I think." Stan thundered. "Feel free to eat lunch, or go to your room. Be in this chair at 6:30 for dinner. Don't be late." With that ultimatum, the voice that filled the room suddenly ended, and Rachel was left sitting in a chair in a silent room.

* * *

"My name is Officer Minnie Jebutu. I'm here to ask you girls a few questions." The officer stood at the doorway of an interrogation room holding Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez.

Quinn exchanged a look with Santana, one that seemed to simultaneously hold Quinn's 'what the heck are we supposed to do now?' and Santana's 'chill out, Blondie, I got this.'

Before Officer Jebutu could ask a question, Santana cut in smoothly. "No disrespect meant, Officer, but my father is a lawyer, and I know my rights. You can't make us say anything, and as we are minors, you need a parent or guardian present."

"Well Santana, you are certainly a very smart girl, but as I am not charging you with anything, you don't need a lawyer. Unless you want one?"

The unspoken challenge hung in the air until Santana narrowed her eyes and gave up that battle. After all, the war had only just begun.

* * *

Second page of Lima Courier, "McKinley Singers still MIA. Foul Play?"

* * *

"You think I wasted my time kidnapping part of McKinley's Glee club? Okay, I'll admit it. I'm not a fan of competition, but I'd rather spend my time making Vocal Adrenaline better, and not McKinley High worse," Jesse said, insulted.

The reporter continued, "But sir, rumor has it you and Rachel Berry, one of the missing, were romantically involved."

"_Were_ being the operative word in that sentence. Obviously you should do your research better and have leads that aren't a few _years_ old," Jesse sneered. "Now go away!"

* * *

Rachel sat in her room, trying still to wrap her head around everything that had occurred earlier in the morning. All the questions had messed with her head, her views. She couldn't think right now. A nap would do her some good. She set the old-fashioned alarm clock near her bed for 5:30. The last thing she needed was to make Stan mad.

* * *

**When I wrote this, I was listening to Stan by Eminem. I had heard of the song before, but listened to it yesterday. That was a nice pun, heard and listened? Anyway, the song is a little out there if you haven't heard it, and I'm someone who doesn't use profanity, so I get it. Well, if you haven't heard it (or listened to it), I'm suggesting it. Or if Eminem isn't your style, Wikipedia has a good explanation of the meaning under "Stan (song)." This is obviously not who I based Stan off, it just provided the inspiration for the name. As always, I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday. Happy New Year, and I would love to hear from you. Review or PM if you want, and I would love to hear what you thought of Stan (the song or the character).**


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